Your Imagination Runnin’ Away with Me

Manifest

verb

: to make evident or certain by showing or displaying

Dear diary, it’s Jonathan again, the last of the millennials. Last night my anxiety brought me to another conclusion about my generation. Everyone is convinced they’re chronically depressed or mentally unstable so they follow the trend and get therapy. Of course I feel at ease now. I no longer have to hide carrying you around, my tragic diary.

Another day of pure safety. Same park bench to escape to when I need my silence. A beautiful escape from it all. I slowly close my eyes and listen to the birds. “Excuse me but do you mind if I sit here?” The voice of a woman who’s looking to make a friend with a man who clearly isn’t. “I’m sorry but this seat...” before I can finish the young lady has made herself comfortable.

Black dress, red lipstick and an umbrella to hide from the sun. There’re so many empty benches yet she chose to sit by me. Then, she has the audacity to ask even though she planned to sit anyway. “Who are you,” she said interrupting my thoughts. “My name is Anthony”, I’ll just humor her till she’s fed up. “Trying to assert yourself by using Tony, your little childhood antagonist is funny”, she laughs. “Come on now John Doe, who are you?”

How’d she know that name? How’d she know Tony? “Who are you and why this park bench Miss?” I’m freaking out right now and hopefully she doesn’t notice. Maybe this is a joke and I knew her when we were younger. “I’m here to give you this John Doe”, she pulls out a bank card and sends it my way. “It’s Jonathan Doyle, why are you giving me this?” She laughs again, “look at it silly”. The card says my name but that’s impossible, my card is in my wallet. See my card is...it’s not there anymore. “Why would I give you something that isn’t rightfully yours? That’s how you create chaos,” she said, as a dastardly smile appears on her face.

“This is very awkward, I don’t like it”. Even though I say this she continues her rant. “How’s your imagination John?” “It’s Jonathan and I guess it’s pretty good”. Should I really drop the conclusion that this woman is possibly a stalker? “I believe it’s horrible John; you’ve accepted the name John Doe and it’s made you just that, plain. Pushing down your thoughts and feelings. So bland the only way to make you seem remotely human is to talk to your little black notebook. Even then you exaggerate your stories, you’re not depressed or anxious, you’re just empty.” She ends the last sentence with a tone that felt like another language. I’m truly speechless because I know she’s right. “But I’m here to give you that imagination, along with real panic.”

“Well you want me to panic?” I can finally laugh. “I’m going to give you 20 thousand dollars”, she says knowing my laughter won’t disappear. “Well where is it comedy queen?” She smiles and asks “that bank card of yours, why’s it so special?” I’ll play your game, “it has all my money on it”. She quickly interjected, “no it’s all imaginary John”. Now I’m seriously confused, should I give her my psychiatrist’s card? “That piece of plastic has as much value as you and those around you give it. When you work and save, you imagine the bank has a spot for you and your wealth, they don’t. They have what can be yours if you come get it but if not you have an imaginary place for yourself.” She’s explaining a concept even a child understands but why? “Yes why Johnny boy?” Wait did she just read my… “It’s all imaginary until you command it to manifest with that card. Today your mind will be the bank and your imagination will spend your 20 large Johnny.”

Maybe she is crazy, after that mouthful I should give her the doc’s card. “Well thank you for your generous donation Miss.” Time to leave before I'm stuck with her all day. “As I said earlier Johnny boy, it’s no donation and it’s no joke. Your mundane life will soon either be strengthened or crippled.” I blink and she’s also standing, faced away with the umbrella open. She turns one last time and says “remember it’s a bank Johnny, like any bank there’s an overdraft fee.” Then she walked away to leave the park and I did soon after but I also left everything that occurred there. Never will I speak of my nameless stalker, only to you diary.

It’s been a week since that strange occurrence in the park. Anytime I vividly imagine an item or something I want, the damn thing finds its way to me. I’ve gotten so paranoid that I barely write in here about my life but now it’s about the money. Maybe she meant I don’t get the money but I do choose what I spend it on. A lot is just impulsive so I’ve changed your name journal, you’re Mind Control now and as long as I keep the numbers recorded I won’t overdraw. Since that day, since these events, her words “there’s an overdraft fee” are burning my skull. WHAT IS IT? WHAT HAPPENS? DO I DIE? IS LIFE GETTING SHORTER? WHAT IN THE HELL DO I DO WITH TWO 85 INCH TVs?! I LIVE IN A STUDIO APARTMENT WITH JANE! I can’t even imagine how my outbursts are affecting her. She must be frustrated or she could be feeling happier? I never opened up about what’s going on upstairs.

I’ve been yelling at coworkers. I push my family even further away but instead of silence I use anger. Every second something worse happens, more things pile up and I hold my journal tight to track my imagination. I wish my brain was dead again, settling for basically nothing. My therapist is the one who has to hear the worst of my drama. Now I’m here in the dining room for some unknown reason.

“Jonathan why are you always so locked into that black journal?” It’s Jane’s voice. “I’m here trying to get you.” She looks as if she’s going to cry. “Look listen, I love you and I’m sorry but I only have $6,217.72 left so shut up!” “What in the hell does that mean Jonathan?!” I can't tell her but why? It’s not like it’s a secret, she deserves better. Maybe that designer bag she’s been talking about will do the trick. Knock off $800 and tax, happiness achieved. Wait, I keep retreating to avoid conversing about this. I’ll tell her everything, I need to let someone in.

“So you have 20 grand?” “Yes, I had that amount.” “But it’s not physical but in your head because a ‘random’ woman gave it to you?” Yeah I’ve totally lost her at this point. “Yes it’s great because it’s free but I don’t know what happens if I go into the negative.” She bursts out into laughter but I see the humor. It does sound pretty insane. “Such a vivid imagination, nice little story you’ve created and that act bravo. Honestly, I never thought something so crazy would come from you.” If I'm being honest I’m relieved she smiled because now I can too. “I love when you left the park and discovered your powers. Brilliant intro being you saw a man with an expensive phone and imagined you had it. It’s like a metaphor for working hard for what you want.” I can’t sway her mind but for some reason I feel like she believes me somewhere up in that mind. We both know I can’t afford the stuff I have on my wage.

She’d asked me if she could tell her friends and I agreed. I noticed myself talking more. I finally let out all of this built up weight and I’m relieved. Some even realized that this is my truth, word for word. They think I’m crazy but I don’t care what people expect me to be. Began talking to my family more, they say I look better when I smile. Getting into their good graces for being a jerk and blaming the world was hard but an 85inch TV did help win over dad. I quit my job as a mindless desk worker and decided to travel. Maybe I’ll find purpose somewhere. It’s been so long since I looked on the bright side.

I’m happy with myself, the money burns if I pay no mind but who cares. Jane is the only thing I want and need; if I die at least I was happy. Now I’ve dragged the two of us to Paris, using my actual savings of course. The rest of this money is going to be spent now. “Well, well how are you John Doe?” It’s my darling stalker who came to grace me with her presence in the city of Love. “Hey there”, a smile and a few words to show my thanks. “Well if you’re here that means death. At the very least can I get one last night?” I’ll have to be content with what she says. She bursts out into laughter. “Really asserting yourself now. I’m simply here to see how it all turned out Johnny. Your energy screams you’ve changed for the better.” She walks away, seems like our final conversation then she turns. “I never introduced myself, I’m Ms.Oz but you can call me Kay.”

Something funny about her name but no matter, she’s to thank for tonight. I put my imagination to the test for an extravagant dinner with a small string quartet playing while we watch the moon. “Jane, before I met you I was John Doe. I was average, empty, and a burden to everyone as well as myself. Without you I wouldn’t have broken the stigma and stayed the weird boy who never speaks, always holds it in to express it all in his diary. It’s been months since I’ve written in the damn thing and I feel normal. Not normal as in I’m the same as everyone else but normal to the point where I can say I’m actually me again.” I pulled a small case from my breast pocket with a diamond ring inside that froze the band and even passersby. They saw how it used the moon to brighten the area.

She couldn’t even wait for me to pop the question. She yells, “yes” to the top of her lungs and lunges towards me. No regard for the table or seats, she holds me tight. Both of us are just laughing on the ground with fancy clothes now dirtied with food and wine. She kisses me then all who were frozen scream and applaud with joy to Ms.Jane Doyle but I’m fine if people say Doe. The night was excellent.

“Remember when I gave you back your debit card?” That was just Kay, why am I here instead of with Jane? “Where am I?” after I said that I felt I knew. “You’re dead Johnny”, she said with a chuckle. “You held all the answers. Back then I said value was imaginary, it was all up to you.” Her head smacks her hand. “You imagined your fee as well and you chose death.” I said “I didn’t choose death”. “Look at Jane with that man.” I quickly look over to see but it’s actually me, I’m so confused, “who in the hell is that”? “That’s the Jonathan Doyle you imagined, the only thing that kept you from turning into him was you. You imagined your change, to you Johnny has no worries but the old one does. I can see it now, death in the back of your mind makes it easier to stage a change.” Tears on my face, “It’s just my imagination?”